


Curiosity

by melanoradrood



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, F/M, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon is Robb's Best Friend, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7855138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoradrood/pseuds/melanoradrood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery has a really good idea. Sansa eventually breaks down and listens to it. Robb gets involved even though he doesn't realize it. Jon is either an innocent puppy or just a red blooded male. Jonsa. One Shot / Drabble. Complete. Modern AU. Not Starkcest. Explicit Rating due to Porn. Not even pretending I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity

Sansa was beyond frustrated. Really, she hadn’t minded not knowing what it was like. Sure, she was curious, but curiosity didn’t necessarily require any sort of action. The problem would rectify itself, in time. Of that, she was certain. But, the more that Margaery had talked about it, the more that she had laughed at Sansa’s innocent blushes, suddenly, it was a thought that consumed her. She needed to know, craved finding out what it was like, thought of nothing else for what seemed like days, until eventually, she was sitting on her laptop, chrome suspiciously on incognito mode, a glass of wine in hand, with vibrators on her screen.

It seemed impossible to choose, with all of the colors and shapes and material, but eventually, she had stumbled on one that seemed rather basic. Really, how could there be so many options? They all did the same thing, right? They just… vibrated. There was no need to spend hundreds of dollars on something that seemed so pointless. She certainly enjoyed touching herself, so why did there need to be some big bang in the end? Why should she waste her money on something to help her get there?

But the wine was fueling her curiosity, and a few days later, there was a non-suspicious brown box sitting in her mailbox. And it sat there, for a few days after that as well. Sansa kept telling herself, if she didn’t open it, she didn’t even have to use it. Just so long as it sat there, there was no need to even think about it.

And why should she think about it? She was perfectly content, thank you very much. She had had sex before, and there was no happy little beginning, middle, or end. Sure, it felt alright, but whatever it was that the item in the brown box could give her, well, it couldn’t be that amazing. Margaery had to have lost her mind. It was… there was no need to do it on her own. She was single for a reason, not needing to cater to anyone else, and not needing to try and lay there and enjoy what was thoroughly boring. Why should she open it up, just to force herself to do something she didn’t enjoy?

But the longer it sat there, the more it screamed at her. At times, she could swear she could hear it vibrating in there, which was impossible, because it didn’t come with batteries - she had done the research. It was eating at her, until she was eventually checking her mail two or three times a day, even after gathering it earlier on. With the help of another glass of wine, she brought it upstairs, and left it on her counter.

And there it sat, for a month.

It wasn’t until she went out to celebrate Robb graduating from Law School that she even really thought about it again. Somehow, in her busy life, books and clothes and things in general had piled up over the box, until eventually, it was hardly even visible. Sansa truly had forgotten, so when she stumbled onto it just before she headed out to the bar, she dismissed it, thinking that if she had gone this long, she wouldn’t need it at all.

Once she got home, however, it was all she could think about. It wasn’t that she was intoxicated, because she had only had three glasses of wine over the whole evening, but it had been what she saw there… more like who she saw there. It had seemed like years since she had really taken him in, given that Sansa lived on the West Coast, near her parents, and they had both gone to Law School on the East Coast, but there he was, real, tall, built, still dark and curly haired. He dressed far better now than he had back in High School, or even when he got his Bachelor’s degree, now wearing a nice sweater instead of a ratty tshirt and fitted pants instead of holey jeans.

And he looked good.

It probably didn’t help that she had been thinking about that box the entire night as well. Somehow, after all this time, now was the moment that it consumed her. She had to blame it on the wine, as that was the only real answer at this point, but deep down, she knew it was a combination of curiosity and finally having an object to fantasize over.

Not that Jon Snow was an object, but he was… He was certainly something. Particularly given how, so many years before, when he had been a regular visitor in her house, he had been the center of all her childish fantasies, kissing her softly on her hand, brushing her hair back from her face, perhaps even taking her on her first date, like all of the tv shows said would happen with her elder brother’s best friend.

It took far too long to get the tape out of the way, and then wash the thing. Reading, and rereading the instructions, Sansa went about lighting candles in her room, trying to set the mood. A few spritzs of her favorite perfume, taking off her dress and shoes, and she was ready to begin. 

Laying down on the bed, she tried to relax, breathing slowly. Her thoughts were filled of nothing, and then she saw him, his smile, the way his eyes seemed to light up in the darkness of the bar, and she moved to turn it on-

She had read the instructions! How could she have forgotten that it needed batteries? Jumping up, she ran to the kitchen and pulled open a drawer… to find nothing. Now, Sansa was on a mad dash, checking in her desk, in the living room coffee table, anywhere that she could think, only to come up empty. Opening up the remote to her television, she found one, and eventually, after finding an old mouse that was in the bottom of her drawers, she had a second. The instructions had said brand new, but it wouldn’t make a difference, right?

Wrong. Now she was laying on the bed with a vibrator that was only just barely functioning, more frustrated than she had ever been before. She almost wanted to break down crying - all this time, she had been avoiding it, and now that she wanted it, it wouldn’t even hardly work. Still, she had to try. She needed to try.

The first few moments were alright. It was strange, a little cold, but with her fingers spreading her open and smearing her juices, she was able to almost find just the right spot immediately. The rhythm, as slow as it was, almost felt perfect… but a few minutes later, it was just wrong. She needed more. So much more. Her eyes were pinched closed and she was far too tense, but she wanted it so badly, wanted him so badly.

Her eyes shot open at that, but she kept at it, slowly moving the vibrating tip against the places that felt best, back and forth, rolling it around. She seemed to find her rhythm, no longer concentrating on the little buzzing toy, but instead thinking about Jon Snow. She thought about how their hands had brushed for just a moment when he put his number into her phone, making her promise to call if she needed anything now that he was officially moved back and starting an internship. She thought about how he had smiled at her when she commented on the change in attire, the way his fingers had run into his curls, pushing them back.

She even thought about the way he had watched her when she had hugged Robb bye, the way that he had almost stepped towards her, until she awkwardly gave him a smile and a nod. The way that her heart had raced, and she knew deep down that he was watching her walk away. Reality set in again, and she remembered exactly what she was doing, running the vibrator over her swollen bud, so close but not close enough. 

“Jon,” she gasped, testing the name on her lips. It was a little breathy on her lips, but she still liked it. “Jon, please,” she begged again. Her hips were rolling down, and she was imagining that his hands were there, one holding her down, the other spreading her open for him to look. If he were there, she imagined he would use his mouth on her, like they always did in the trashy romance Margaery made her read. He was such a people pleaser, it was only natural that he would give into her desires, even if he found it to be disgusting.

“Jon, right there, taste me,” she whimpered, so close to the edge. It was almost painful now, how badly she needed him, craved him even, and she could almost feel it there, when the battery cut out… and she started to cry.

Sitting up on the bed, she banged her hand against the side of it, trying to make it turn back on. Actual tears were in her eyes now, and she tried shifting their positions, then threw it at the wall, breaking her new toy. Now, she was even further away that she had been before, and she let out a scream of frustration.

“Sansa?”

Her head whipped around, hearing the voice, the one from her memory, her fantasies, and she felt herself go cold. Sitting beside her bed was her phone, lit up, with a name on the screen from a current call. She felt herself go ill, and almost immediately wanted to throw up as shame built in her.

“Sansa, I know you can hear me. This is the quietest you’ve been since you called, oh, ten minutes ago.”

Panic mode set in, and she quickly grabbed the phone, hanging it up. There. That was it. Nothing happened. She could just pretend that nothing was-

It was ringing. Why was it ringing? Why was he calling her back? She fumbled the phone, trying to hang up, but instead, there it was again, his voice coming through her phone speaker. “Sansa? Just let me know you’re okay. It sounded like you broke something.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, suddenly realizing that, maybe just maybe, he didn’t know what was going on, and now he was worried about her, or going to call Robb - but he had said she had not been quiet the previous ten minutes… Seven Hells…

“You don’t sound fine,” came that warm voice as she raised the phone to her ear. Mentally, Sansa groaned. There was no way out or around this. “I, err- You didn’t mean to call me, did you?”

There was no way to answer this. She could play it off like she meant to call him, to have him hear her touching herself to thoughts of him, but then he would reject her, and that would be a disaster. But the other option was being ashamed of it, and then it would just make the pair of them even more awkward. Instead, she took another route.

“Why didn’t you hang up?” It was an absurd question, with no real answer that would solve anything, but it took the attention off of herself, off of her own failures. She had called him while attempting to use a new vibrator, and he had listened. She was being perfectly natural, while he had been… He had been listening!

And now there was pure silence in the air between them. She had to check her phone twice to see that he hadn’t hung up, and they were, in fact, simply not responding to one another. Someone had to break, and Sansa refused for it to be her. She could hear his breath, almost fast and labored, and a sudden thought came to her. Had he heard, and…

“Why didn’t you hang up, Jon,” she asked again, this time a bit more insistent. It was eerily quiet, and then she heard what sounded like a very soft, muttered curse, followed by a very clear groan, one that said he was just as frustrated, or torn, as she was.

“Robb is out on a date tonight. I heard him say that earlier, that he wasn’t even planning on coming home. That means you are there alone…” Entirely alone, and free to do whatever it is he wants to, without her big brother asking any question. It was as good a time as any. 

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the pulsing between her thighs, maybe it was the fact that she had broken that dumb vibrator, but she wanted him, and if she was going to take a risk, well, it couldn’t possibly get any worse than this.

“I’m texting you my address. If you want to answer that question, you’ll do it face to face.” 

She hung up before he could respond, and quickly texted him her address. As soon as it was sent, she started regretting it, but it was too late to take it back. 

Wanting to hide in her bathtub and cry, Sansa instead pulled herself together, running to throw away the torn apart cardboard packaging, and gathering up the three pieces of her vibrator, only to shove them in the trash. Her dress and heels she tossed into her closet, and she pulled on a silk robe over her nudity, another gift from Margaery that she might just thank the girl for later.

And then she waited. And waited. And waited.

He’s not coming, she realized after it had been more than enough time for him to reach her twice over. He’s not coming over.

Now, she really was going to throw up. It had been a mistake, but she had taken a risk, and it was even worse now than it had been before. He hadn’t shown up, which meant that he either hadn’t been doing what she thought, or he wasn’t interested… It was too hard for her to comprehend, that this gamble, this disaster, would all end with her sitting by the front door in just a robe, with nothing left.

Making her way into her bedroom, she began blowing out the candles that she had lit earlier, then headed into the bathroom, turning on the light to stare at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t like Margaery, who seemed to have a following everywhere she went. Sansa was more put together, yes, but almost more like her mother, going for things more sensible than sensual. Was she just not his type? She had seen on Social Media that, for a time, he had dated a redhead…

Was it the fact that she was Robb Stark’s little sister, or the fact that, up until a few hours ago, he had forgotten she existed?

Getting ready to start removing her eye makeup, she suddenly had a feeling. Setting down the washcloth, she walked from her bedroom into the living room, and then into the kitchen and towards the front door. She was just a few paces away when she heard it suddenly, knocking at her door. Her heart stopped, and then she rushed to it, pulling the door open faster than she could breathe.

“Condoms.”

He was holding up a box of them, looking even more awkward than she had felt. He had clearly been in bed, the old tshirt thrown on inside out, and his pants held up with his hand instead of a belt, but he was there, and she didn’t really care where he was or what took so long. Except-

“What?”

“I had to… Oh.”

He was now staring at her blankly, with a look in his eye that she oddly recognized. It was the look of someone coming to realization that maybe, just maybe, they had read everything wrong.

“You took… you took so long because you were getting condoms,” she finally supplied, looking from him to the box. Somehow, it made her want him more, both for the fact that he didn’t just have any handy, but that he had also thought so far ahead.

“And because it took… fuck, Sansa, hearing-”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean for you-”

“But I did.”

They were both suddenly really quiet, staring at each other, and then Sansa was stepping back so that he could step into her apartment. He did so, and she locked the door behind him before heading back into the living room, and then towards her bedroom. She wasn’t sure what to do, now that he was here. At no point had she thought this far ahead.

“Why didn’t you hang up?” Her voice was quiet, so quiet she wasn’t even certain he had heard her, but then he was setting it down, awkwardly, on her kitchen counter before turning to look at her. 

“I should have,” he finally said after a long while. “You didn’t intend for me to hear that… but the chance that you did want me to…”

“The battery died.” And now it was his turn to look entirely confused. She wasn’t going to clarify as to what’s battery had died, but it should be obvious. “And I have no other batteries, so I threw it in anger, and now I-”

He’s closer to her suddenly, taking a few steps from the counter to where she lingers in the doorway to her bedroom. He could reach out to her, touch her if he tried, but instead, he just stops and stands there, watching her. Waiting for some sort of clarification. Some sort of sign.

“It’s a really long story.”

She leaves it at that, and he clears his throat a little in response, as though he’s trying to buy time before speaking. Instead, silence settles over them, and they just stop and stare.

Sansa isn’t sure how long they stand there, how long they just watch each other with wide eyes, before finally he utters a curse. The noise seems to break her from the spell she is under, and as one, they are moving towards each other, his hand reaching out to grab her wrist and pull her close, her hand reaching out to wrap around his neck. 

Their bodies are pressed together suddenly, and then he’s pulling her up, hands underneath her thighs, lifting her so that her legs are wrapped around his waist, and his face is buried into her neck. They’re not moving any further, but it isn’t uncomfortable or awkward. Instead, he’s holding her tight against him and breathing in her hair, while she runs her fingers into his curls. It’s as though, in the moment, they are making certain that the other is real.

Nothing else needs to be said at that point. It seems to suddenly click for him all of it, what had happened, all she had been doing, why she was so frustrated, and how he can truly make everything better. She expects him to carry her off to the bedroom, but instead, he’s turning and setting her on the edge of the counter. There might actually be tears in her eyes, thinking that she has to wait any longer, but then he’s stepping in between her thighs, and pulling the silk robe apart. It feels sinful, the way that the cool fabric flowers over her skin, teasing at her breasts, and then she’s naked before him.

Never would she have thought that he was any sort of artist, but the way that he is looking at her, it’s as though he’s painting her in his mind. There’s a heat in his eyes, and then she can see the hunger. Her whole body tenses as wetness pools beneath her, and she feels a shiver run up her spine, unable to contain her desire any longer.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs, reaching out towards her again. His touch is light and careful, just barely running underneath one breast, and then down her rib cage, and she can’t stand it anymore. In a move that Margaery would be proud of, she takes his hand and slides it down between her thighs. Leaving his hand there, she props herself back on her hands, and then lifts one foot, bracing it on the edge of the counter, so that she’s opened even more for him.

“Please,” she whimpers once, and he doesn’t even look up from where his eyes are locked on her sex before he’s moving to sit on the chair sitting there, mouth almost perfectly level with what they both desire. She’s already so high strung just from her own actions, and the buildup to get here, and she’s certain with one touch, she’ll be screaming his name.

It’s gasps that escape her, though, as his mouth lowers onto her, licking at her slit. He seems to be taking his time, but when she looks down and locks her eyes with his, she can see how white his knuckles are, how much he is attempting to restrain himself. Giving him a bit of help, one hand moves down between her breasts, and then she’s spreading herself open for him further, so that he has full access to every little dip and fold. 

That seems to do it for him, and then her ass is up off the counter, now in his hands. She’s trapped, forced to leave her hand holding herself open, forced to hold herself up with one hand, and now being forced to scream. He’s taking long strokes, feeling as though he’s everywhere, but it’s so fast, she can’t even embrace it all. Every time she’s taking in another breath of air, he’s pushing her further, until she’s jerking against his mouth. She hasn’t even peaked yet, but it’s better than anything she has ever felt before.

When his lips finally close around her bud, though, she knows the true meaning of blinding pleasure. Both hands slip, one to the back of his head to keep him locked in place, the other so that now she’s propped up on her forearm. “Jon, oh by the - Jon yes!”

She thinks that nothing has ever felt better, that her body is on another plane, but he’s still going at it, now with only one hand massaging her ass. The other, well, she no longer feels so empty. It’s his fingers pumping in and out of her, two quickly becoming three, and his tongue continues to wrap around and suck at her clit. She can no longer breathe, and the pleasure goes without end, until eventually actual tears are coming down her face, and a fourth finger has joined the others. She’s sobbing for him, begging him to stop, and yet keeping his mouth just there, until every part of her suddenly feels numb.

Her body falls flat onto the counter, and she lets go of his hair as her body jerks in response. Sansa realizes he’s no longer pushing her so hard, but is instead licking at where his fingers just were, as though he’s cleaning her up. She opens her eyes just in time to see him popping his fingers into his mouth, drinking in the flavor, and then looking up at her.

She wants to smile, wants to do anything to tell him how she feels, how intense and amazing it was, but instead, she just watches him. He’s still high strung, she realizes, and it dawns on her that, for however long he has been here, touching her, he has received no pleasure in response. Feeling suddenly selfish, she tries to push herself to sit up, but then he’s right there, scooping her up into his arms, and carrying her into her bedroom.

There’s no time to touch him, no time to do anything, before he’s turning and walking out of the room. Now she has the energy, sitting up on the bed, ready to call out for him, to beg him to stop, to come back, but then she sees what he has in his hand. The box opens and he grabs one out, then tosses the rest of them onto the floor, no longer worried about anything other than the current moment. He tosses it down onto the bed beside her, and she scrambles up to help him undress before he steps back.

“I’ll blow like some green boy if you touch me. Amazed I didn’t a few minutes ago when I was - Fuck.” 

Her hands pause in their movements, and then she pulls back, sinking onto the bed. She doesn’t know how to even respond to the gruff words that he seems to have to force out, and instead she watches as his tshirt and his pants both hit the floor. He must have kicked off his shoes somewhere between her front door and this moment, because he’s barefooted already, and she suddenly realizes that he was wearing no underwear. He had said he had rushed over, after… and he had been in bed…

It only turns her on more as he puts a knee on the bed, grabbing up the condom wrapper, and then reaches for her with his free hand. His arm wraps around her waist and she goes up fully onto her knees with him. He’s kissing her neck, her shoulder, her chest, dipping down and around until he’s on the other side of her neck, and then at her ear. “I want to see you ride me.”

Nodding dumbly, Sansa finally looks down between them at what is pressing into her stomach, and licks her lips. She wants to offer, wants to out of pure curiosity and then desire at this point, but he already said he was too close. Of course, there’s a way to reset all that, but if he already did earlier tonight… she would rather not push her luck. He’s already rolling a condom on, besides, and she moves her hand to his shoulder to brace herself a little as he pinches it into place.

Now she’s looking up at him, and suddenly realizes how bright his eyes are. They are dark in color, yes, but they seem to be truly glowing and alive. Shyness comes over her and she smiles at him, truly pleased at what’s about to occur. His free hand goes into her hair, brushing it back over her ear and running through it until his hand is on the flat of her back.

She thinks he might be trying to say something, and she wants to encourage him, but then he’s moving around her to lay down on the bed, head on her pillows. She turns with him, and then lifts one leg to straddle him. The weakness of earlier suddenly sets in, and she pushes herself up from where she straddles his stomach to move to his cock. His hands are right there, though, gripping at her waist before she can even think, and he’s lifting her up while she reaches between them to rub the tip against her slit.

Already oversensitive and in overdrive, a shiver runs down her spine at the intimate touch, but then she’s sinking onto him, slowly, inch my inch, and a new pleasure sets in. With the previous orgasms, she’s so much more sensitive within as well than she had ever imagined. Every vein, every pulse, every tightening she can feel, rocking through her body, forcing her to gasp again before he’s even fully within her. Once she’s fully settled, hands moving to his ribs, bracing herself there, she gives an experimental rock. Jon tightens his hands on her waist, as though in caution, but she disregards it.

Everything about this is entirely new to her, the way that it feels as though he is everywhere, how she can feel him even in her fingers and toes. She straightens up fully, hands moving to cup her breasts, and she rocks her hips again. He’s hissing in response, hands not tightening anymore, but still maintaining their grip. Her head falls back and then she rocks her hips a third time, which finally seems to wake him up.

They’re working together, his hands moving her hips so that one moment, they are almost entirely separated, the next so that he’s deep within her. She has one hand in her hair, the other braced on his leg behind her, and she just lets herself feel, without thinking. Somewhere along the way, she has stopped caring about how he is her brother’s best friend, and how they haven’t discussed this in the slightest, and instead, she’s just enjoying the moment. It’s entirely unlike her, the woman that plans every move, but she feels suddenly alive.

Even with his help, her hips are starting to lose momentum, the buildup once more present. She can feel him in every part of her, splitting her open, filling her up, and her body doesn’t seem able to handle much more. She already knows this is more than she has ever handled in her life, and he has lasted longer than anything she has ever endured in the past, not that this is forced in the slightest, so she isn’t really surprised. Still, Sansa can’t imagine this ending. Every second since he walked into her life again has been the buildup, and this peak that they have reached, she doesn’t want to come down, doesn’t think that she can.

Again, though, he seems to understand, and he’s rolling them over suddenly, so that she’s on her back, looking up at him. Whereas before she had felt wild and free, now she feels like she’s wrapped up tight in every touch of him. His hips pause as he moves her leg, taking it from around his waist and moving it up his body so that it’s up over his shoulder, and then he’s at it again.

Like this, his hands can move around her, one hand sliding down to where their hips are meeting. His fingers easily find her clit, swollen and puffy from his earlier attentions, and she jerks her hips in response, a sob escaping her mouth. He doesn’t stop, though, fingers working back and forth quickly, almost double the speed of his thrusts. Somehow he’s deeper, which doesn’t seem possible, but the angle is just perfect, and with his fingers teasing at her clit, it takes no effort to get her off.

She feels on display, not sure how to respond, what to do, and instead just grabs onto the blankets on either side of her, fingers gripping into the fabric. Her head falls back and she pinches her eyes shut, just as she starts to scream. It goes on forever, the pleasure hitting first, then the numbness, the heat of it all coursing through her body. She has to remember to breathe, and does at some point, but then he’s cursing and pumping into her harder, faster. Even without his fingers at her clit, as now his hands are holding up her leg and gripping at her waist, she’s pretty sure she could orgasm again.

It takes all of what little mental energy she has left to not buck against him, to not jerk away, to not beg him off, because he’s so lost in the moment, she couldn’t imagine asking him to slow for even a second. Her fourth orgasm is different, though, a wave that she is carried over as he finds his own, cursing her name as he does so. Her entire body shakes with the pleasure, and she feels it in her spine, in her soul.

The second that her body had been opened to him, it felt as though everything was loud, the noise of her heart beating constantly thrumming in her ears, but now, everything is eerily silent. All that can be heard is their breathing, hers coming in little gasps, his long and slow. He finally releases her hip, but his hold on her leg continues, and he turns his head to press a gentle kiss to the skin there. His lips continue, working their way to her ankle, and then he’s releasing it, setting it back down onto the bed, rubbing the joint as he does so.

She’s watching him with lowered lids, not even sure what to say, now that it’s all said and done. She hadn’t thought this far ahead, hadn’t even really thought at all, truth be told. Now, she wants to know what he’s thinking, what he expects, what he desires from and with her. Why did he listen? Why did he come over? Did he want her? Did he want something more? Was this a one and done? Sansa couldn’t imagine never having this again, never having his body pressing into hers, never having his lips on hers again-

“You never kissed me.”

It’s the first thing she has said in what feels like hours, and his head suddenly jerks up to lock eyes with her. He seems startled at first, then confused, and then he finally asks. “What?”

“You never… you never kissed me.” 

The first time she had said it, it had been rather matter of fact, a statement, something blunt, but now, her words are soft, almost as though she’s ashamed of them. Maybe… perhaps he hadn’t wanted to. Maybe this really was about the sex. Maybe he had just wanted an orgasm as much as she did. Maybe he didn’t want to date at all. Technically speaking, all she had wanted was to get off, but now, Sansa isn’t sure of what she wants.

It seems an eternity, but finally, Jon moves… in the exact opposite way she wants him to. She had been hoping, really expecting, that he would bend down and kiss her, but instead, he’s pulling out and standing up. She’s still laying there, watching him, not sure how to process as he heads into her bathroom and, presumably, throws away the condom. When he walks back into her bedroom, he seems deep in thought, and all of a sudden, she has a stark realization that he’s trying to figure out how to let her down easy.

For some reason, Sansa hadn’t even really considered that was a possibility, not truly understood what it meant, until this moment. There’s a deep pit in her stomach and she wishes it would just swallow her whole, so she doesn’t have to face that all of this, which had seemed like a dream come true, would never happen again. That Jon Snow wasn’t interested in her. That she would never feel this again, would never again have the heat of his eyes locked on hers, would never again feel his lips trailing across her skin as though he’s savoring the moment.

She forces herself to sit up and get off the bed, her nakedness making her feel even more vulnerable. The sheet is still trapped underneath her comforter, so she quickly tries to walk by him towards her closet to grab another robe, this one decidedly less sensual. He reaches out to grab her as she goes to pass, but then seems to rethink it, jerking his hand back. She stops all the same, though, and turns her head to look up at him.

She’s expecting him to buy time, to fumble with his words, or even to just stare at her, still weighing his options, but this time, he doesn’t seem to stop to think, to over analyze. Instead, he’s reaching for her again, this time his hands sliding into her hair and around her neck, his thumbs caressing either side of her face. It’s too much to hope, to wonder, and she looks down instead of up at him. This, it feels like a pity kiss, but the touch of his fingers on her face is so delicious, she feels a shiver go down her spine. 

“Why were you saying my name?” he asked, his voice still gruff, but much softer than it had been earlier. She still can’t bring herself to lift her eyes, but his lips are on her forehead now, just barely brushing against her skin as he speaks. Their bodies have somehow moved closer together, and they are swaying slightly, almost as though dancing. Her hands move up to rest on his chest, or maybe to push him away, she isn’t sure. 

She doesn’t want to answer him, doesn’t want to put herself on the spot, doesn’t want to even think about it. How could she explain? How could she even begin? Did she keep it simple and sweet, say he looked good tonight, say she was curious, say she thought he would be a good lay… or did she confess to all the nights she had dreamed of him kissing her, pulling her close, much like this, all when she had been younger? Neither seemed appropriate, neither felt like the right answer, and so she stays silent.

“Sansa. Tell me. Why were you imagining me when you touched yourself?” He’s much more direct this time, but now, his thumb is moving to tilt her head upwards, so that she’s forced to look at him. His eyes, that heat is gone, the confusion is lost. Instead, he’s looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and he never wants to let her go. Her lips shake a little as they part, trying to find the right words, instead stumbling over what she finally says.

“Because, I wanted, just you. Always. I don’t, I didn’t think this far ahead, I just-”

“Shh,” he’s murmuring against her forehead again, almost a struggle given that she’s almost his height and she’s looking up at him now. Her eyes close, and then he’s pulling her tight to his chest, hugging her into him. He doesn’t try to ask her again as he holds her to him, and then he’s pulling away just enough that when he dips down, his nose brushes hers.

“Always you,” he murmured against her lips, seeming to agree with her earlier explanation. She wants more of an explanation, but she doubts she’ll get more, and really, she doesn’t need anymore. Not when their foreheads are pressed together, eyes closed, and then his lips are pressing to hers.

If she had thought that the sex was unbelievable, controlling every part of her being, filling her in ways she had never imagined, she could have never even imagined that a kiss was all consuming. It felt as though every part of him was kissing her, from the way that her body fit against his to his hands now running down her back to even the way that his lips moved against hers. She felt on fire all of a sudden, and her hands moved up his chest to wrap around his shoulders, pulling their bodies even closer together.

He was lifting her up again, her legs wrapped around her body, and he carried her into the bathroom. Sansa didn’t need to know what exactly he had in mind. Not when he was kissing her like this, touching her like this, and every time he came up for air, he murmured against her lips how she was a dream, a beautiful dream, and all his.

The next morning, two phones ringing woke her up. One was a familiar tone, the one that signalled Margaery was calling, but the other, well, she could only guess who was calling Jon. Turning her head to look at her bedmate, she saw Jon was laying face first into the pillow, arm wrapped around her stomach. She peeled him off of her to grab her phone, just in time for Margaery to stop calling. She noticed Jon’s phone sitting beside it, the name Robb appearing bright on the screen.

Perhaps she should be a bit nervous about the fact that she had just spent the entire night having sex with her brother’s best friend, but her body felt too good to really think that far ahead. Just as Jon’s phone stopped ringing, she heard a knocking at the door. That would answer why Margaery was calling, likely to tell her about the date that she had been on the night before. Well then, this would be quite the surprise, given how it was rather rare that Sansa deny her entry into her apartment. Often, the roles were reversed.

It was time to really rub it in.

Running a hand through her hair to add a little extra volume, Sansa picked up the silk robe and slid it on, just barely tying it around her waist. Jon’s phone was ringing again, and she could hear him groaning, and she turned around to catch his eye. They smiled at each other, and he reached for his phone to grab it, answering it with a What?

Sauntering to her apartment door, Sansa double checked herself in the mirror, noting some of the beard burn on her neck, shoulders, and chest. Rubbing away a little of the smeared makeup that hadn’t all come off in her distracted shower, when she heard Jon suddenly say, rather loudly, You’re where?

The knock came again at the door, and Sansa ignored Jon, assuming that Robb had likely gotten into some odd trouble Jon would have to bail him out of. Opening up the door and, expecting to see Margaery, she was in quite the shock when she saw that, yes Margaery was there, but also her brother. Margaery was all smiles and Robb looked rather pleased with himself, but all of that stopped when they looked at her in shock.

The smirk on Sansa’s face dropped, and then she heard Jon behind her, scrambling into the hallway, telling her to not answer the door. Everything froze for a moment, and then Sansa shut the door, not even sure she could deal with what was going on in front of her. A real pity that she had forgotten to lock it, because as she turned, wide eyed to look at Jon, who was clearly horrified and naked, she heard it opening behind her.

She didn’t even need to turn around to know what a disaster this was, so Sansa instead made her way to Jon, standing in front of him to hide the fact that he was naked. Suddenly, she was remembering that there was wrapped condoms strewn across the floor from the kitchen counter straight into her bedroom, and Robb seemed to have his eyes locked on that. Margaery, of course, had a grin on her face.

“Should we tell him we’re dating?” Jon asked rather cautiously. Sansa doubted that would make a difference… until it dawned on her that both her brother and her best friend, who before now had only been in the same room as the other a handful of times, were showing up at her apartment together.

“I’m going to forget that you went out with my best friend, and didn’t even bother to tell me, and you’re going to forget that I spent the entire night with your best friend.” 

That finally snapped Robb out of his trance, and he gave a nod, turning to leave as he took Margaery’s hand to lead her away. He was still speechless, it seemed, but Sansa wasn’t going to complain. Margaery, though, she just couldn’t help herself. She was holding onto Robb’s hand, not letting him get away, and she looked the pair of them over with a grin.

“Orgasm good?”

Robb let out a groan, Jon stiffened behind her, and Sansa felt her face go red. She knew that Margaery wouldn’t budge until she got her answer, so Sansa gave a jerky nod. “Yes. Very… very good.”

“Lots of them?”

Robb was now letting loose a string of curses while Jon started praying for him to not die a painful death, and Sansa wished the floor would swallow her up… and Jon with her. She gave another nod, then glanced at the trash can where the broken vibrator had been thrown. “Better than a vibrator.”

Margaery’s face was the one shocked now, and she was looking between the two of them, the question clear on her face, and eyebrow raised, which gave Sansa all the confidence she needed to give her best friend a smile. “Good bye, Margaery.”

Margaery just gave a nod, and the door was pulled closed, leaving Sansa to turn around, take Jon’s hand, and pull him into her room for another round.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted (eventually) on FanFiction.net and Tumblr.com. All requests are accepted via tumblr at melanoradrood. If you just want to come and chit chat, you can find me at lilmisslydiamartin on tumblr.


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